These sing to me, Annie, again !—
Old songs that we loved long ago!—
And Memory shall waken her train,

Sweet fancies that round us shall flow, To carry us back to the times,

So youthful and joyous and grand !— And sweeten our lives for awhile,

By a touch of her wonderful wand.

ENGLAND.

To the north and the south,
To the east and the west,

Afar did I wander and roam;

But of lands I have seen,

In the parts I have been,

I still love thee the best,

Dear England, my country, my home!

Oh, sweet are thy valleys!

Around which the blue hills

Give shelter, and beauty, and charm ;

To cottage and village,

To orchards and tillage,

And clear, winding, bright rills,
Each flowing by pastures and farm.

Sweet, too, are thy moorlands !—
Where bees, mid the heather,
Full often do murmur and rove ;—
Where the rough granite shows,
With the wild English rose;
And, close grown together

Blackberries each schoolboy doth love.

But sweeter than moorlands,

'Neath the breath of the morn,

Thy sons and thy daughters are seen!— The one manly and true;

And the other we sue,

For that charm, which is born

In our race, where woman is queen.

Thy coasts long and rugged

With cliffs, coves, and bays,

Doth nourish bold seamen and true;

They full oft on the main,

When returning again

From lands far away,

Feel glad when its outlines they view.

The arts of thy cities,

And the works of thy towns ;—

The commerce thy children command,

Have built up by their worth,

Mid the realms of the earth,

To their uttermost bounds ;

An empire majestic and grand !—

Dear land of my fathers!—

What a history thou

Hast writ on the pages of Time!

What a glorious record

Of the pen and the sword

Is wreathed round thy brow!

Won well from past ages and clime !—

In the north and the south,

In the east and the west,

Wherever we wander and roam;

Mid the continents wide,

Or the deep rolling tide,

By those who loved best,

Dear England, our country, our home!

LOTTIE.

NUT-BROWN hair has Lottie !
In many a graceful tress;
And well enough the lassie knows
Its witching loveliness;

For in its lights and shadows,

Its curling waves of brown ; The hearts of many laddies

She hath securely bound.

Darling little Lottie !

Joy of my heart and my life!

How sweet it is to love thee !

Love thee!

Oh, love, wilt thou be my wife?

Dark-brown eyes has Lottie !

Gems that match her bonnie hair! And sparkling, beaming, laughing, bright

Tempt laddies on to dare

Oft her rosy lips to kiss,

Her sunny smile to woo;

Each as fresh, and sweet, and fair

As flowerets wet with dew.

Bonnie face has Lottie !

With many a winning charm ;
Suffused full oft with blushes

Like peach glows soft and warm;
When to her heart most tender

There comes, like flight of dove,
The glances of a lover,-

The one she best doth love!

Blushes sweet of Lottie !

More sweet and dear to me

Than all her other outward charms
Of winsome witchery;

For tell they not most truly

All that I would request—

The true love of the maiden !—

The lassie I love best !—

Composed at Babbacombe when home for my holidays, August 18-19, 1893.

OUR GOOD SHIP.

OUR good ship is bounding!-
Bounding o'er the main !-
Rushing through the billows!—

Sailing home again!